


Yondu's Deal

by ImaMePanda



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Dad!Yondu, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Mom!Kraglin, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Sexual Spanking, Okay Kraglin is like half mom/ half big brother, Parent Yondu Udonta, Peter Has Issues, Ravager Family, Spanking, Stockholm Syndrome, Yondu Makes His Own Deal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 02:26:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8950156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaMePanda/pseuds/ImaMePanda
Summary: Yondu isn't as eager to take Peter's deal as he is in the movie. Instead he has has own deal for his wayward Terran. Contains a spanking to an an adult from his incredibly dysfunctional father figure. You have been warned. Ravager!Family





	

“Not good enough, Petey. Still gonna have to learn yer lesson.” Yondu shook his head, an evil looking leer on his face, and Peter felt his heart sinking as his last hope vanished. No, no, this couldn’t be happening. Goddammit the man had never been able to turn away a ringer before, why now? Peter knew how to play Yondu, always had-of course back then, despite threatening it every other day, Peter had known Yondu didn’t want to kill him. Of course, he’d never committed the closest thing to treason the Ravagers had before, and Peter knew the penalty.

Yondu turned away, turned his back, when he whistled for the arrow to come and fly in front of Peter, wouldn’t even look at him, and Peter didn’t know why that pissed him off, more than the thought of dying did, but it did. He kept his head up, defiant, even though he was more scared then he’d ever been in his life, and Yondu, Yondu, the toughest bastard he’d ever met, couldn’t even look him in the eye while he killed him. Stupid son of a bitch couldn’t even give him that bit of respect, and Peter’s eyes weren’t stinging, goddammit, they _weren’t._ He waited for the arrow to rush forward, for the pain…but nothing happened.

"Ya know boy, it occurs to me that part of the privilege of bein’ Captain," Yondu drawled, "is it's up to me just what lesson I teach. Mighty hard for you to learn a lesson if ye're dead." Peter stared at his back, eyes wide, as Yondu's arrow pulled away slightly and the captain whirled back around to face him, his leather jacket clapping around him with the speed. He pressed back against the wall, the crewmen holding him stepping back as Yondu motioned them away. What the fuck was he talking about? There was only ever one lesson taught when you stole from the Ravagers.

Okay, so part of Peter had been very reluctant to believe that Yondu would actually kill him, (Kidnap him, raise him to be a space pirate, put a bounty on his head-sure. But _kill_ him? Nah.) but most of the rest of him had kinda thought he had forced his hand. Ravager's code and all.

And yeah, maybe part of him, like a tiny, almost minuscule, part of him, actually thought that the dude who'd all but raised him, who taught him how to shoot his blaster, how to drive his ship, hell, how to fucking shave (he'd left the scraped knees, lessons, moaning about how he was a grown up, and the many, many bailings out of jail to Kraglin. Kraglin who was busy scowling and yelling at any ravager who was daring to show disagreement with their captain-Peter was grateful to realize it wasn't all of them-one of his knives glinting in his hand as a very unsubtle warning. Kraglin who he'd avoided even looking at, because if Kraglin hated him...) wanted to kill him. But even though he was probably the definition of dysfunctional, even Peter wasn't dysfunctional enough not tell that little voice to shut the fuck up.

But not wanting to do it didn't mean he wouldn't. They were Ravagers. They had a code. One Peter had broken. When he'd been shoved up against the wall Peter had figured that was it. The crew would finally have that taste of Terran meat after all.

Except, Yondu wasn't going to kill him. Peter's knees buckled a little in relief. Yondu wasn't going to kill him.

He'd totally known Yondu wasn't going to kill him. Whole time. Totally.

So, now Peter had no clue what was about to happen. Not that, you know, he wasn't very, very grateful that he wouldn't soon be dying painfully from a radioactive arrow to the gut, because he was, he really, really, really was. But Yondu was going to have to do something big, something showy, if he didn't want to lose standing with the crew. Like, mutiny-causing levels of standing. The other Ravagers were calming down a little, settling at least, since Yondu's arrow had whistled away from Peter and almost through Horuz's throat, but that wouldn't last. Peter may have been a little more scared now then he was when he thought Yondu was just going to kill him.

Okay, that was a lie. Didn't change the fact this was not going to be fun, nope, not going to be fun at all. It didn't help that Yondu was leaning in real close to him now, mouth wide in a not nice smile, a smile that implied he _wa_ _s_ going to enjoy whatever happens next, that Peter _deserved_ this lesson, the silver and gold glinting off sharp teeth as he spoke, "Ye’re gonna take yer belt off and hand it to me. Then, son, ye're gonna drop yer pants and drawers, turn ‘round and lean against the wall so I can whip that ass of yers 'til it's the same color as yer jacket. _Now_."

Peter's mouth droped open in shock, face flaming, voice coming out high pitched and squeaky and more insistent then it had any right to be, "What? Yondu, I'm not a kid anymore! You can't be freakin' serious!” He didn’t yell it, he's not that stupid, but he can still tell it was definitely the wrong thing to do from the look on Yondu's face, which had gone hard and dark and dangerous. Shit. Here he is, risking his own life to save Peter's, and Peter just had to fight him on it. Like he _was_ still a little kid, whining about KP duty.

“Are ya disobeying a direct order, boy?” The threat hanging in the air then definitely reminded Peter of being a kid and before he knew he was doing it he was shaking his head almost frantically, hands fumbling with his belt buckle clumsily. It snaked out of his pants both faster and slower than he can stand and he nearly dropped it twice as he handed it to Yondu. “Get’m down and get yer hands against that wall. Now!” Peter wasn’t hesitating anymore, and he shucked his pants and boxers right down, not even caring that Gamora is getting a free peep show (hey, maybe she’ll like what she sees-god, not now Peter, there really is something wrong with you), before turning to the wall and bending over, hands flat against it. It wasn’t exactly the first time he’d been in this position, but it _was_ the first time it had been in front of the entire fricking crew, and Peter could feel his foot start to jiggle with nerves. The crowd was murmuring behind him and getting louder, some sniggering, some clearly unhappy he isn’t dead, and at least one voice was telling Yondu to make him bleed. ‘Cause, ya know, that wasn’t vaguely terrifying.

Yondu made him wait just long enough to where his skin felt like it was about to crawl from anticipation, and then the belt snapped down, biting against his ass cheeks like a snake, then again, so fast he was still flinching from the first, and again, and again and again and Peter had already known this was going to be the worst whipping he’d ever had by far, but _fuck._ He all but danced in place for a second, going up on his toes, but a barked command and a stinging stripe across his lower thighs got him back in position. The blows kept coming hard and fast, the belt flying down from the crest of his ass to the middle, Yondu not leaving a spot untouched.

He bit down on a moan as the belt moved from the middle of his ass to the lower part of his cheeks, just above where his ass met his thighs, the leather first kissing one cheek, then the other, then landing in a heavy slap across both, over and over, the cycle repeating until Peter thought he couldn’t take it anymore, pain spreading into a solid band of fire, and couldn’t the bastard hit him somewhere _else_ at least. Peter wasn’t crying yet-Ravagers don’t cry without a damn good reason-but he couldn’t hold back all the yelps and whimpers that were trying to escape and he couldn’t keep from squirming from side to side, either, and even if it meant he gets smacked across his thighs at least it won’t be in the same damned spot. Then Yondu’s hand was there, solid and heavy in the middle of his back, pushing him down, and Peter felt himself relaxing even as the pain increased. It might seem like he was just holding him down, but Peter knew Yondu, knew if forgiveness wasn’t coming he wouldn’t be touching him at all. The guy was kind of the opposite of touchy-feely, and Peter had figured out long ago that whether it was a hand on his shoulder or a smack upside his head, Yondu wouldn’t bother if he didn’t give a shit.

Suddenly Peter felt guilty. Really, really, possibly ridiculous levels of guilty. Yeah, Yondu hadn’t exactly taught him better, not on purpose anyway, but it didn’t change the fact that Peter had stolen from family. A fucked-up family that had formed out of some weird form of kidnapping/alien abduction and pretty much had to involve Stockholm syndrome on his part, but it was still the closest thing he’s had. He had the Milano, he could have just left and made a name for himself. He just had to rub it in Yondu’s face that he _could_ do it, that he could be better, faster, beat him at his own game. Now Ronan had the damn stone and even with Yondu letting him live, they’ll all be dead sooner or later. Most likely sooner.

Of course, then the belt started snapping against his thighs, and between the relief that his sit spots weren’t getting swatted anymore, and the sharp stinging pain of getting his thighs thoroughly roasted, Peter couldn’t really think much of anything besides ‘owwww’. And this had better count as a damn good reason to cry because the tears were coming now no matter what, it wasn’t up to him anymore. Peter could hear Gamora yelling now, saying that he’s had enough, and how she didn’t realize that was the opposite of helping Peter didn’t know. Not only did it make him look kinda like a giant pussy, even if Yondu had been about to stop he sure as hell wouldn’t with her demanding it. Yondu just laughed at her, smirking as he says, “Unless ya want a taste, girly, I’d suggest ya shut yer trap.” Peter bristled, sending a glare over his shoulder at Yondu, who just raised an eyebrow and said “ain’t the time for backtalk, boy”, but a second later murmured, just loud enough for him to hear, “almost done, Petey”, as the Ravagers jeered and whooped at seeing the tears on his face. The belt had left livid red stripes halfway to his knees and was working its way back up, and, at least among the humanoids, he doubted there was a man or woman among them who wouldn’t be crying by now.

Yondu kept working the belt farther up Peter’s backside, back over his sit spots, new licks reigniting the fiery welts, up almost to his lower back, then dropped it, the loud clatter of heavy leather and metal buckle hitting the floor letting him know it was over. His hand lingered on Peter’s back for a split second longer, before he pulled away calling out to his men, “Alright, show’s over! Unless ya have a reason to be in here, get out and get to work!” With only a bit of grumbling the crowd began to disperse, to Peter’s surprise, as he made quick work of yanking his pants back into place, some of them, not many, but some, nodded at him as they left. He wasn’t sure what surprised him more, that they did it, or how it made him feel.

Horuz moving a finger across his throat, in what was, sorry Drax, _totally_ a universal gesture, was slightly less heartwarming, but Horuz’s hatred had been a constant since he was eight, it would have been weird otherwise.

The room was clear now except for the senior crew, and of them those on navigation or engine duty were missing. Yondu walked away, motioning over his shoulder for Peter, and he guessed Gamora who had stalked over to Peter’s side the second she’d been released, to follow him, “C’mon, we can talk about gettin’ that Orb back now that that’s handled.” Peter glared at Yondu as he trailed after him, trying not to limp, more flabbergasted than anything else, because really? He whooped his ass and _now_ he wanted to take the deal Peter had offered? Fucking figured.

If they could get the Ravagers to help get it away from Ronan it would be worth it. Kraglin dropping his hand to Peter’s shoulder for just a split second as he headed forward to walk at the captain’s side, made it worth it for Peter, honestly. God, he had issues. Still, things might just work out okay now, they might live long enough to save the day at least.

So, of course, that’s when the entire ship shook and Rocket’s voice boomed around them, threatening the ravager ship with destruction. What the hell, how did they think blowing up the ship with Peter and Gamora on it would help??

 


End file.
